Category: fiction

The turbulence was almost too much to bear. Spake pulled out the onboard oxygen mask, cupping it to his face and falling back down in his seat.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth. Walls shaking. People screaming. Children screaming.

“Hold on, everyone”, shouted the pilot over the intercom, static being produced, transmission cutting in and out. Trying to keep things under control but the aluminum tube was about to rip apart in mid-air.

Down she went, shooting down through the sky faster than a hot missile.

The plane crashed down into the Sahara desert, creating a wave of dust that stretched for miles. Flames engulfed the wreckage. Noone could have survived this. But somehow, one did.

Now Spake began his quest across the desert, looking for help, looking for anyone. Parts of the plane scattered across the arid land. Hot and dry. Sweltering heat.

Around this area was a secret facility, a place where a project was being conducted.

There once was a secret box that could only be opened by a special person. It had six locks on the side, six magical locks that when opened revealed something so powerful that the founder had to be so careful as to not let it get into the wrong hands. The Creator of this ancient artifact left very little clues as to how to unlock the box. It may unleash something bad or something good, forever changing the course of the world. Sort of like Pandora’s box but in a different way.

The clue is given via a hologram image of the Creator, which is basically a recording of him thousands of years ago. He died shortly after creating this. Hespeaks in a strange language that must be deciphered. This language might be made up if anyone knows.

The only way into the ancient underground lab where this box is located is by taking a drop of your blood and placing it on the sensor rune in the door. But beware, it only accepts people that share some bond with the Creator or are part of his ancestry line. So basically, the mythical lair is set up to keep out anyone who is unworthy of its secrets and be abusive. Until this day, the only ones to have ever discovered the location of the secret box, otherwise known as a word that sounds like Klingon, are the Creator himself and someone he trusted closely named Romulus. Together, they set up the defenses and other precautions that would ensure the box would stay hidden and protected. They were afraid that if anyone else discovered this, things would go terribly wrong. Nothing like this had ever existed in the world. The most worthy person would come along someday.

That was before a man named Slocan Mesta came along. And he would not only succeed in accessing the hidden lab, he would unlock the magical box and acquire the power that was inside, which turned out to be quite useful – for a while at least. Being one of the last ancestors of the Creator (whose last name might have been Mesta or something else), it was probably right that he was the worthy candidate to finally discover the power that had been dormant for so long.

Whatever happened to Slocan Mesta? Well after he went into the village he quickly did things that terrified people and made him an instant villain. It turns out that he rose to power quickly, using his powers to manipulate and trick people. He couldn’t be caught since he could transform into any living thing, human or animal, could easily hide in plain sight. It was said he manipulated his wife into marrying him and had two children who may or may not had inherited his rare abilities.

Mesta has seemed to have gone into hiding after his power became so uncontrollable, he couldn’t be apart of the normal population anymore. It was taking a toll on his body as well, making him very weak and tired, draining him of his energy. That was the downside to opening the secret box, for what was inside seemed to morph itself into its host, completely taking over that person’s soul, little by little taking control of their mind until they no longer could make their own moral decisions anymore.

The story continues into the present day when four kids come in contact with the recluse, aged quite considerably, and are led on an adventure for the ages. A plane will crash down into a desert, someone will be taken and held hostage – by hazmat suits, and the key to restoring a burnt out apocalyptic land to its once peaceful and thriving state will require the impossible to happen.

Like this:

Back inside the halls of long abandoned Praline, the bounty hunt for Dmitri Ivanova continued. It was going well into midnight and tensions were high for his capture.

“Where are you Ivanova?” said Looper in a hushed tone, walking through an aisle of the school’s abandoned library. His flashlight beam hovered over some dusty books on a middle shelf, various titles on the spines becoming clear. Ivanova, the ruthless tyrant and murderer from Russia, could jump out at any moment and start shooting at the tall beared assassin.

“Come out,” Looper said, the old floorboards creaking under his heavy boots. Most of the windows of this abandoned library were boarded up except for two that had been shattered, letting in streams of moonlight that illuminated the aisle Looper was stealthily walking down. The sound of an old clock that was miraculously still ticking after all these years was the only other sound besides Looper’s shuffles.

They say Looper’s name comes from the way he goes around in circles on subjects,

In 99 words (no more, no less) explore the importance of a name within a story. It can be naming an experience, introducing an extraordinary name, or clarifying a name (who can forget Who’s on First). Go where the prompt leads.

It’s Harry Potter and author J.K. Rowling’s birthday today, both born on July 31st. The celebration weekend goes on with the release of the unofficial eighth book in the Harry Potter universe “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child”. While this book is available in a physical paperback form, I bought it on Google Play for a friendly price of 14.99. It’s not really a novel but the script from a stageplay adapted into a book. The drama continues with the kids of Harry, Ron, and Hermione going to Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter is the main character in this story and deals with some real issues, including questioning his family name and heritage. What’s in it for the future of Harry Potter and company? Read the story to find out.

I was a desperate traveler looking for a Wi-Fi signal. A lightning storm had just commenced and knocked out my Internet reception at home, possibly damaging the receiver. I had no idea when it would be fixed, a week perhaps.

I had been walking along a long road near a farm looking for help when I was suddenly kidnapped by some guys in a car. They blindfolded and tied me up in the backseat. I had no idea where they were taking me but soon woke up in the middle of a desert with no one around.

Luckily, my phone was still with me, but the thugs had stolen my wallet. I tried to update my Facebook status, send a Tweet, check my WordPress, and upload a funny Vine of myself dancing near a cactus.

But nothing…

The first time I tried connecting…”Sorry there are no connections available”
The second time…”Sorry there are no connections available”
The third time though…”Hold on while we access your current location”

So I, a tired and confused nomad, waited for a response…

“You’re in the middle of the freaking desert!”

I looked at this weirdly. Was that a normal response?

The phone then put up another message:

“Here are some recommendations to find Wi-Fi: Go east about 10 miles. You’ll find a highway. Go north on that highway for about 5 miles and you’ll come to a little town called Dustcrop.”

So, with the sun beating down on my young sweaty face, and feeling dehydrated, I went the distance to the long highway and then trekked the five miles to this Dustcrop. It was like a scene out of an old Western flick or The Rifleman. Every shop and house looked like it had a cardboard front. A dusty road split down the middle of this strange-looking town. Everyone was milling out mindlessly, but when they saw me coming, they suddenly stopped and looked at me suspiciously. Immediately, a stout looking man with a moustache saw me and walked up to me casually.

“Howdy. I’m the Marshall. What can I do for ya?”, he asked in a heavily Western accent.

“I’m looking for Wi-Fi. Any available?” My straight American accent must had sounded silly here.

The man nearly choked from laughing so hard. Nearly fell down.

“Wi-Fi? Bless my buttons! Sorry, my young lad. There’s none of that here. We’re out in the middle of the freaking desert.”

“Oh. Do you know where I can find some?”

The Marshall pointed to a tan building on the right where a white pickup truck was parked. A tall gentleman was standing on the porch outside.

“Ask that man to give you a ride into the main city. He’s the keys around here.”

And so I did. And when the pickup truck stopped in the bustling urban jungle with lights and screens flashing everywhere, I got out and started checking my phone for a signal. Still nothing even as I waved my device around and walked around a bit. What seemed to be the problem? In the desert, not having a signal was obvious. But still not having any connection in a thriving metropolis was kind of strange. I checked all of the settings, made sure the phone was not in Airplane mode. No. There weren’t any connections available. How could that be?

Frustrated, I asked a guy dressed in hipster clothing where to get Wi-Fi in this city.

“Uh, sorry man. Wi-Fi has been banned from this city for years.”

I looked at him in horror. “What? Banned? How come?”

“Privacy issues and too much data overloading.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yeah, I was kind of shocked too. A lot of people were pissed. They now have to go at least 20 miles to find any connection. No wired connections here either. We’re nearly Amish.”

“Well, sir. Thank you. I’ve been traveling all day to find Wi-Fi. I got kidnapped and dropped off in a desert, strolled into a strange highway town, and now am here in this strange city. And all I want to do is post a funny cat picture on Facebook. Can you give me a ride? My escort just left really fast.”

“Sorry, I don’t drive. Actually, no one really drives anymore because of the pollution act of 2013. The few that still drive need special permits to do so and do it very little to save from polluting the air anymore.”

“So how do you get around? Is there a train? A subway?”

“Nope. The train system was discontinued after a bunch of passengers got claustrophobia. The subway crashed and hasn’t been repaired yet, tax dollars going to other things like a new statue of Sir Elton John over there. You can ride that around though.” He pointed to a small tricycle by a light pole. It was pink with a basket and had streamers on the handlebars. “I don’t know whose it is but I’m sure they’re not missing it.”

Without another word or hesitation, I hopped on the little trike and rode through the internetless city, not caring what funny looks I was getting or if my legs were cramped and aching. But after about ten minutes, I soon stopped short when I saw a library nestled within some trees. It seemed to be the perfect spot. Could it actually be? Something told me it was.

I went inside. A strange smell came to my nose of fresh paint and cut wood. Checking my phone, I was super excited to find there was a working connection! I found a comfortable chair in the back corner and checked my online life in relaxation. Finally, after so much trouble, my tired nomad feet could rest. Funny cactus Vine uploaded. Third time was the charm.

On the set of James Cameron’s 1997 romantic disaster film Titanic, I presented the beginnings of an alternate script I had worked up overnight. The director looked at it as if it were ridiculous, for which is was, but read it anyway:

A person from 2015 builds his own time machine and sets the date to April 12, 1912, the date of the Titanic’s maiden voyage. Of course, the guy has to look the part, so he researches and looks for clothes from the early 1900s, and is dressed like a dignified Englishman in time to arrive on the dock at Southampton. He even has an authentic ticket produced to reside in first class, for which he certainly is not of, but no one would be able to prove it otherwise.

Narration from the time traveler:

It was one of the most glorious and grandest ships in the world, and in early 1912, I was aboard it. The RMS Titanic, set to embark on a voyage to America. I was to reside in the bottom dorms of the ship, known as steerage, after mistakenly having a third class ticket produced, getting on with just one suitcase and trying to not act too modern (there was a smartphone in my backpocket for taking pictures and maybe wowing the passengers later on).

While walking the deck, I met a friend named Jack Dawson who was an excellent artist. He showed me some of his paintings, including those of women he met in Paris, many of them nude. Instead of waiting for the right moment, I warned him right there that the ship was to sink on its third day. He looked at me in disbelief and laughed and said I was crazy. “What makes you think that?”, he asked. “This is the best ship in the world. It can’t sink!”

“I can assure you that this ship is not built to withstand even a mild collision,” I replied and added, “you all are ignorant of the fact that sailing out on the Atlantic Ocean into the night is as dangerous as ever with communication so far away.”

“You all know that this ship is going to sink?”, Jack later asked during his dinner with Rose and her rich royalty, frightening everyone.

“What makes you think that?”, asked Cal with skepticism. “A friend told me. He says he’s from the future.” Of course, they all looked shocked at this statement.

“From the future? And you believe him?,” Cal said, casting a sideways glance at the person seated next to him, who too couldn’t believe this, his moustache twitching nervously.

“Well, if it means saving all our lives, I would say so.” They all just shrugged and dismissed all of the foolishness Jack said during the rest of the dinner as “hogwash”.

But after notifying the crew, they promptly took my advice to prepare for the worst, even getting a call out to another ship to come to their rescue if needed.

And just as it was to happen, the look out crew spotted the deadly iceberg on the chilly night of the 15th and had enough time to maneuver the ship past it after knowing about it far in advance. They, Jack and Rose, and some of the other passengers, including first class, all looked at me in astonishment. Some thanked me graciously, some patted me on the back, some looked at me as if I was an alien from another world, even if I was dressed like them.

“Is there anything else you know about the future?”, the Captain asked. “Of course. I’m from it,” I said and then added, “You guys really need to learn about Facebook.” And with that, I pulled out my smartphone and took a selfie with me and the Captain together, who looked at the device curiously.

So now the ship has been saved and history changed:

Jack lived and went on to marry Rose in America, raising a family in a Wisconsin log cabin. Cal was thrown in prison for attempting to murder Jack, eventually committing suicide by hanging himself. The Titanic went on a second voyage back to England in 1913, not avoiding the iceberg this time, as fate was angry and sprouted up an array of iceberg blockages. The ship hit one of the blockages head on though and survived the impact, the operators taking my advice to do so. A fire eventually broke out in the boiler-room, damaging but not sinking the ship in 1914. Instead of James Cameron’s movie being about the disaster of the Titanic, it was about a time traveler who goes back to warn the passengers and does the incredible. And about a ship that is cursed and narrowly avoids disaster every time it sails.

“Okay, this sounds great and all, but I’m not producing sci-fi here,” James Cameron said to me. “Please take your script somewhere else, maybe to Joss Whedon or Steven Spielberg.”

And so I did, and way and behold, Spielberg loved it so much (I think he was drinking something) that I worked on the script some more, working it into an official full length script. The movie was produced and was officially named “Back to the Future: Part IV: Saving the Titanic”. Michael J. Fox was even so excited that he agreed to reprise his role as Marty, his illness seeming to be magically cured. Christopher Lloyd as Doc Brown even suggested turning the ship into a time machine boat.